


Field Work

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hooker Jim ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field Work

Field Work

by Gena 

 

 

"This is so unlike you, Sandburg."

"What’s so unlike him?"

"Sandburg wants to find a male hooker!"

Blair Sandburg felt the blush spread across his cheeks like wildfire but couldn’t do anything to stop it. As soon as he’d asked, Blair had known he should have waited until he could get Mickey alone. Now everyone would razz him about his request.

"Way-to-go, Sandburg!" Cat calls and loud whistling gave way to rowdy laughter.

"Thanks, Mickey," Blair growled. "Look do you know or not. I haven’t got all day."

"Ah, come on, Sandburg," Mickey cajoled, "it’s not every day Mr. Clean wants to know the best place for tube steak." He laughed at his own joke only sobering when Blair shoved his books into his pack and headed for the door. "Wait a minute, Blair. I was kidding, okay? If you really need to know, try over on 77th street. I heard from a friend there’s some nice guys turning tricks for extra money." He paused, casting a suddenly worried look over at the curly haired grad student. "You - you didn’t lose your grant or anything, did you?"

"Come on, Mickey," Blair sighed. "It’s for my thesis. Urban social groups - I figure you can’t get more urban than people selling it on the streets. " He sketched a wave and headed out the door. It was getting late, sunlight filtering through the campus trees and warming his face as he walked towards his car. Mickey hadn’t been too far off the make with his question. Blair reached into his pocket, fingers curling around the notice he’d received only that morning, warning him that he had been granted his extension but that this was it as far as his doctorate was concerned. He had six months to complete his first draft and submit it to the board. If he failed to comply he was out of the program.

"Life sucks," Blair whispered as he unlocked his car, tossed the backpack in and started the engine. He’d had the absolute perfect subject but failed to substantiate his thesis with cold, hard facts. Sentinels. The crumbling pamphlet he’d unearthed had seemed like a Godsend at the time. A Victorian explorer had come across examples of guardians who’s extraordinary senses could alert his or her tribe to danger long before it became apparent. He’d called them Sentinels and theorized that genetics had played the pivotal role in their abilities. Sandburg, his mind running wild, had figured that these Sentinels must still exist. The need to protect the tribe having dwindled, their senses would have probably remained dormant in most people in the modern world. Blair’d had visions of finding the perfect subject, a person who’s senses were far more developed than the average Joe Blow. And he’d found hundreds of documented cases; people who worked for perfume companies, ice cream companies, even a woman who’s job it was to smell armpits at a research lab for deodorants. All these subjects demonstrated one or even two heightened senses but he’d never been able to find a person with all five. The one lead he’d ever had on such a Holy Grail had petered out. A nursing student had mentioned in passing a soldier coming in for tests, complaining that his senses had gone wild. Blair had tried to track the man down but never found him. It was unlikely the guy had stayed in Cascade and if he had, he’d dropped from sight like a lead balloon.

And so with the board breathing down his neck, Blair had come up with another thesis. It wasn’t earth-shattering, and it wasn’t as fascinating as Sentinels, but it would do. He pulled his car up in front of his warehouse apartment and went inside to ready himself for a little field work. It was a huge place, lots of room for his eclectic collection of artifacts, and research with enough space left over for the occasional party with a capital "P". Not that he’d ever gotten around to having a massive party, but the option was still there. He knew enough people to fill the place, calling half them his friends, but somehow he’d never felt a closeness to any of them. Some nights, sitting in the small pool of light cast by the desk lamp, Blair would let his mind wander over his life. He’d spent so much time adapting, struggling to fit in to any situation that to finally light in one place made him feel like an outsider. He was lonely and had been most of his life, but now when things should have been coming together for him, he felt as if it didn’t matter anymore. Sometimes the silence echoing in his apartment drew a moan of despair from some secret recess within him. He found himself longing for something he couldn’t put into words, something missing from deep inside him, a part of his soul which had not knit itself to the rest. To Blair it seemed as if that other part waited just out of sight and he didn’t know how to find it.

"Get a grip, Sandburg," Blair muttered to himself, "it’s not like you haven’t had your share." He winced at that, knowing the sex really didn’t have anything to do with it. Women seemed drawn to him, they liked to run their fingers through his long, curly brown hair, they like to kiss his full lips and told him he had soul deep eyes. And while he was in their arms, Blair loved them, but later, lying alone in his bed, their footsteps receding in the distance, he realized that hollow well inside him hadn’t been touched by their nearness. "No time for this," Blair whispered to himself and set about getting ready to find the perfect test subject. "What does one wear to pick up a male hooker?" he wondered. In the end he settled for tight black jeans, a white shirt and multi-colored. He loosened his hair from its clip and let it cascade around his shoulders. With a final deep breath he headed out the door towards the night.

77th wasn’t too far from the university, once in a while he drove down it to get to his office quicker. Shops, most catering to the college crowd, offered foods and distractions for every taste. Blair had never noticed a high level of prostitution in the area, but he’d never really been there after dark. Now he cruised the broad street, taking in the sight of so many people looking for something few ever found. He parked his car across the street from a video store painting the sidewalk with neon advertisements just to observe the activity and was amazed by what he saw. Cars would curb crawl the entire length of the street, stopping periodically near groups of young men. After a hurried discussion, one young man would either climb into the car or step back and another would come forward to try. Blair found himself wondering about these men, what had driven them to this point in their life? How did they survive the long, cold nights, the fear of picking up the wrong client, of catching some life threatening disease and the harsh conditions? Not consciously aware of what he was doing, Sandburg pulled out his notebook and began to scribble. He watched the hookers jockeying for position when an expensive car rolled along before them, the posturing and primping each Mercedes of Jaguar provoked in those waiting for an opportunity to earn a few dollars, would have been comical if it hadn’t been so sad. After studying the scene for almost an hour, Blair shoved his notebook into his backpack, folded his glasses, took a deep breath and made his move.

The night was chilly, his breath wreathed his head as he sauntered along the sidewalk trying to look like a john on the prowl. Vague shapes called to him from dim doorways, offering a variety of sexual activities, trying to tempt him into spending a little time and money. Blair ignored them all, moving automatically, searching for something he felt sure he’d recognize when he saw it. He’d paced the length of two blocks, mentally cataloging the men he passed when his eye caught the perfect subject. A lone figure lounged near the video store, a string of red licorice hanging from the corner of his mouth like an afterthought so disarming it made Blair chuckle. The man looked up with eyes Blair recognized from a thousand lifetimes past. Their gazes locked together with unerring certainty, and Sandburg felt his gut clench. He’d never seen anyone for whom the phrase animal magnetism had been coined before until that moment. Lazy blue eyes, appraising and yet somehow kind, continued to regard him but a slight smile curled his lips, lending a wistful expression to his strong features. The body was hard and lean, bulging biceps emphasized by a sleeveless undershirt and stretched across his sculpted chest in complete disregard for the chilly night, tight black jeans encasing long legs only added to the electric current of desirability he possessed.

Sandburg found himself drawing nearer, pulled by some inexplicable force. His throat felt as dry as a stretch of Arizona highway, but he managed to croak a greeting as he stopped beside the handsome hooker. "Uh, hi." Blair could feel his cheeks burn with the inanity of his opening salvo. The hooker looked him up and down, the gaze seeming to take in, not only Sandburg’s outward appearance but every thought in his head as well. He plucked the string of licorice from his lips and tossed it into the gutter before answering.

"Hi, yourself." Came a soft reply. "You looking for a party, kid?" Blair, cheeks just being to cool, swore under his breath as the dreaded name hit the air. Blair knew he looked younger than his twenty-eight years but the hooker couldn’t be more than eight or ten years older, definitely not old enough to call him kid. The tall man in front of him raised an eyebrow in surprise but only waited for an answer in silence.

"Uh, yeah," Blair began to dig in his pocket, not sure of prostitute etiquette.

"Not here!" The larger man moved, quick as a cobra his hand closed on Sandburg’s forcing his hand away from his pocket. The contact, flesh against flesh, sent a spark coursing through Blair’s body, making him lean into the touch. "First time at this?" The words could have been derisive but when Blair met the strangely gentle eyes all he saw was genuine curiosity.

"Yeah, sorry. So....how much....." Blair let his words trail away, uncertainty as to exactly what he wanted from this man quickly filling him. When his wrist was released from the other’s hold, Blair could still feel the warmth of the touch.

"Bet you’re the shy type," the hooker said with a laugh. "Fifty if you got a car. Seventy-five if we need to find a room." He waited, falling back to his original arms crossed position, watching Blair with friendly eyes. Sandburg found himself wanting to understand the man waiting for his answer. The thought of a great paper and his longed for doctorate deserted him when faced with such a unique person. He found himself wanting to know what drove this guy onto the streets. Blair licked his lips, preparing to launch into his rehearsed speech but the other man flinched, shoulders hunched and fists clenched, eyes squeezing tightly shut as headlights washed over them.

"Are you okay?" Blair reached out to catch the man by the arm. He could feel the tension, the coiled muscles trembling and beneath that he felt a spark race through his own body. Like a lightening bolt, it seared his nerves, leaving some indefinable connection behind which tethered him to the other man. The older man’s eyes flew open, one hand coming up to rest on Sandburg’s shoulder, a puzzled look forming in his watering eyes. Blair wanted to embrace whatever it was which crackled between them but choked back his words, instead saying, "I want....all night. Nothing kinky," Blair assured him, shifting from foot to foot as one hand brushed his long hair out of his face.

"Damn," the hooker said, clicking his tongue, "and here I was hoping to get to try out that trapeze I had installed." He wiped at his eyes, slowly losing the pinched expression which had taken hold of his features.

Sandburg laughed, "sorry, man. Uh, I’m Blair Sandburg." He held out his hand and grinned when it was taken in the larger hand.

"Cade. People out here call me Cade." Blair waited, brows arched like twin question marks, looking up with innocent eyes. "Jim," the older man sighed, "my name is Jim...Ellison," he added as if using his last name wasn’t something he’d used in a long time. Stiffening abruptly, face closing as if he’d revealed too much, Jim continued, "look, we got a date or not?"

"Yeah, yeah." Blair bounced on the balls of his feet, a smile creasing his face, "seventy-five, okay?" Ellison nodded and turned away, heading towards a hotel tucked halfway down the street. Blair trotted along, absently noting the smooth glide of muscles in Jim’s back and the compact butt under tight denim. He swallowed hard, face heating when he realized where his thoughts were heading. He didn’t look at men like that, like they were - desirable. He forced his eyes away from the man’s ass and took a deep breath.

"You okay, ki.....Chief?" Jim asked. He tossed a look over his shoulder, slowing until Sandburg caught up to him.

"Yeah, sure," Blair responded. "Nervous." His flashed an apologetic grin, eyebrows dancing. This seemed to reassure Jim, the other man smiled and looped an arm around him. It felt right, tucked against Jim’s side like he was and Sandburg found himself forgetting that he wasn’t just walking along with a friend. Blair was surprised when they passed by the dingy hotel, continuing towards a neighborhood gym. "Where we goin’?"

Jim laughed, one hand tangled in Sandburg’s hair in a gesture too affectionate to be strictly business. "Relax. I’ve got a place here. The owner lets me sleep in the back if I help out." He flexed one muscled arm, "I like to keep in shape." Blair just nodded. The room turned out to be nothing more than a place for a bed, dresser and desk. A stack of books drew his attention, a mix of history, sports, poetry and bird guides attested to Ellison’s possession of a library card. The walls were papered with old fight posters but here and there Jim had added a page torn from a magazine or a faded photo. "My unit," Jim said, startling Sandburg from his contemplation of one particular photograph.

"Army?"

"Rangers." Jim’s voice held pride but when Blair turned he saw pain in the blue eyes. "Long time ago," Ellison told him. He heeled off his shoes, pulling his thin t-shirt up and off before Blair could react, reached into a desk drawer and tossed out a handful of foil wrapped packets. "So, what’s it gonna be? Want me to suck you off or bend over and take it like a man?" He winked at that and Blair found himself cringing with embarrassment.

"N-no. I mean.....that’s...not...," Sandburg stammered. "I just - I wanna talk, okay?" Jim looked up at this, brows drawn together, suspicion running rampant over his face.

"It’s your money," he finally conceded and sat down on the bed, patting the space beside him. "So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked when Blair had seated himself.

"You. Well, more specifically I want to know how you...uh, you know, got here." For the span of a heartbeat Blair was sure he was about to be pummeled. Jim’s eyes grew cold, the blue shifting from spring morning to Arctic ice in a flash.

"Well this is going to cost you more than seventy-five bucks," Ellison whispered. "It’s a really long story." He didn’t say anything else for a long time, but Blair could see him thinking. A residual shadow of pain had settled in the older man’s face, he seemed to age just sitting there. "Use to have a home, friends, a life," Jim said.

"What happened?" Blair stretched out a hand, gently massaging one tense shoulder as he waited. He didn’t realize he was doing it until Jim’s hand closed over his, stilling them both.

A harsh laugh echoed around the small room, loud but mirthless, "just me fucking up again. My unit," he gestured towards the displayed photo, "well, we went down in Peru during a mission. They all died, every one of them. Some of them quick, some not so quick." Jim bolted from the bed, pacing across the floor in three stiff strides. "A tribe of Indians took me in, nursed me back to health," he said with a slight smile, "I was with them almost two years before I was rescued." Again the bitter laugh filled the room. "Of course two years of being down there on my own, guarding a tribe of Indians, had taken a toll on me as far as the United States Army was concerned. I found myself discharged for medical reasons. I joined the cops after that, even got married....but neither worked out."

"Drugs?" Blair ventured.

Ellison’s scornful look burned across him, "drugs are for idiots, Chief. No, I just....I keep having these...episodes. They started to get worse a year ago. I lost my job, my place, and a whole lot of self-respect." As if to demonstrate what he meant, Jim stopped talking. Head canted, face growing blank, he didn’t move until Blair got up from the bed and moved to his side. Ellison came back to himself with a shiver, eyes finding Blair automatically. "Stay here, Sandburg," Jim ordered. "I think someone’s in the gym when they shouldn’t be." He stepped through a heavy wooden door, Blair couldn’t hear his footsteps as Jim moved silently along. The first nigglings of excitement sent butterflies careening through his stomach and filled his mind with a thousand thoughts. Jim’s eyes had been sensitive to the light when they’d been talking outside and now he’d heard something behind a closed door and down a hallway. Blair found himself ignoring Ellison’s expressed wishes and trailing the other man as quietly as he could.

Blackness pooled along the corridor, making movement slow. Blair heard the tiny sound a board creaking and moved closer. He poked his head around a door and waited for his eyes to adjust. The room beyond was an old fashion neighborhood gym. Heavy bags stood like columns around the perimeter of the room and a boxing ring occupied the center. He couldn’t see Jim anywhere and a sense of foreboding ate at his insides. Jim Ellison wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before and not just because of his occupation. There was something about Jim, something Blair couldn’t put into words, but he could feel it. The hollowness which had been his constant companion didn’t seem so deep when in the male prostitute’s company. Jim radiated compassion but with it, a sadness which mirrored Blair’s own. Even though he’d only just met the man, Blair knew he’d do anything to help Jim. Anything at all.

A sound reached his ears as Blair stood peering into the darkness. He saw Jim moving silently along the ring, his attention focused on what Sandburg could tell was a small office. As he watched, three figures - teenagers judging by their size - came out of the office each carrying items they had ripped off. Jim stepped forward, his large body dwarfing the other three.

"Hold it right there," Ellison barked. If he’d fired a gun into them it couldn’t have had more effect. Two of the kids dropped their good, racing for the exit. Blair watched in awe as Ellison took one fleeing teen down with a roundhouse kick. He heard the thump of impact and a moan of pain as the kid crashed to the floor. Light flooded the area, pouring in as the street door swung wide and one of the kids disappeared. Ellison cried out, hands going up in front of his face and Blair raced forward to offer help. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of light on metal and ice gripped his heart. The kid had a gun - aimed right at Ellison.

"Jim!" Not waiting for Ellison to react, Blair swung around the ring, using one of the heavy bags as a battering-ram. Pushing with all his strength, he moved the ponderous bag with enough force to swing it into the gunman’s path. The kid never saw it coming.

Ellison spun around, throwing himself to the floor as the gun went off. Wood splintered from the post behind his head, spearing through the air like tiny missiles. The kid was knocked to his knees by the bag but regained his feet almost instantly, gun coming up as he did. Blair had never looked down the barrel of a gun before, one part of his mind was screaming that he should run but it warred with the part which found it couldn’t tear his gaze away from that gaping black hole where his death waited for him. A white blur streaked out of the blackness, coupling with the thunderous roar of the firing pin igniting powder. Something heavy struck Blair’s chest, throwing him backwards to the thick pads on the floor, shielding him. For a long time he couldn’t hear anything but the echoing blast of the gun going off and then slowly he heard a voice somewhere calling to him.

"Chief? Come on, kid. Blair, can you hear me?" A hand brushed at his hair, pushing it back from his eyes until he could stare up into the worried face of Jim Ellison. A smile flashed across the handsome features and nestled in the blue eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I’m not dead?"

"No, and thanks to you neither am I." Jim pulled him to his feet, arms locked around Blair’s waist and holding him close. When Blair finally looked up, he couldn’t readily identify the expression Jim wore but he felt protected in a way he’d never felt before in his life. "Thanks, Chief. I owe you one." But then Jim’s face hardened and he shook Blair, "I thought I told you to stay put. You could have been killed!"

"And you would have!" Blair tore himself free and went over to the youth beginning to groan on the floor. "What about him?"

"The other two got away," Ellison explained. "I’m going to tie him up, lock him in the closet and tell Sammy the story in the morning."

"Not going to call the cops?" Blair was surprised when Ellison recoiled at the question.

"No. No cops," he said shortly. "Go on, wait in my room. I’ll be right back." Blair nodded and headed off towards the room Jim used. He took a seat on the bed, absently rubbing at the spot where Ellison’s elbow had struck his ribs. He could still feel the solid body against his, the warmth and weight holding him down. Blair closed his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow to let his mind play the scene over again for him. In his head there was no kid with a gun, nothing but Jim slowly lowering him to the floor and then blanketing him with his own body. He could feel the raw edges of his soul adhering themselves to this stranger and the feeling that this chance meeting with Jim Ellison had been predestined since before his birth, swamped Sandburg.

"Chief?" Jim shook his shoulder.

"Jim!" Blair sat up, face flaming as realization washed over him. "Uh, sorry, man. Guess the adrenaline rush is wearing off." He reached for his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and rising with a slight stagger. "I better hit the road." He paused a moment, eyes flicking across Jim’s face before digging once again into his pocket. He laid the crumpled bills on a table beside the bed and didn’t met the blue eyes he could feel boring into him. "Seventy-five, right?"

Silence was his only reply but when Blair looked up the betrayal in Jim’s eyes pounded into him. "Yeah, seventy-five," Jim agreed. He moved forward, coming to Blair’s side with a speed Sandburg would have thought impossible without Hollywood magic. "Here, don’t leave empty handed." The sensual mouth had taken on a cruel twist, it captured Blair’s with painful accuracy. Breath stolen, lips bitten and swollen, Blair rode out the anger and was rewarded with a gentling, a soothing balm which replaced the cruelty. Jim licked at his mouth, tongue caressing where only seconds before he had been punishing, as if the thought of hurting Sandburg was something he couldn’t bring himself to do. When the kiss ended, Jim’s eyes remained closed, lashes trembling against his cheeks. It took all Blair’s willpower not to reach out then. Ellison finally looked at him and the heartbreaking tenderness in those ocean blue eyes tore Blair’s soul into tiny pieces. Jim turned away. "Call me if you need more information," he said. Blair nodded and opened the door. His last sight of Ellison was of the man sitting hunched over on his bed, staring at the money on his table.

ððð

Blair looked up when the door to his office opened. Jim Ellison stood there with a smile on his face and the Kansas City Chief’s arrowhead plastered across his chest. Blair could feel his heart hammering, for the passed three nights he’d canvassed 77th street, searching for the muscular form which haunted his dreams at night. Once he’d spotted Jim, seen the broad shoulders and narrow waist and ached to pull over and talk to him, but he’d turned before he had to drive passed the place where Ellison stood. Now, he rose from his chair, determined to understand the force which propelled him towards this man.

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Blair blinked, the image of Jim fading as the young football player stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. "Oh, yeah, you’re here for the Zuni artifacts," Blair remembered. He watched the youth disappear with a sinking heart. Jim. What the hell was it about this....this hooker? He couldn’t get the other man out of his mind, he remembered each word they’d spoken each time Ellison’s hand had touched him, each time Jim had smiled at him. No one had ever stirred these feelings inside him, made him feel what he was feeling at that moment. It was like burning alive, the fire smoldering in his heart, fanned into flames with every breath he drew. Knowing he couldn’t go on as he was, Blair grabbed his jacket and raced for his car.

77th street was alive with people. Friday nights, the college crowd swelled the bars and spilled over onto the streets. Blair parked his car and wandered along with only one objective - finding Jim. Men and women, some selling themselves for survival others for the thrill, enticed him as he moved along. Blair brushed passed them all, needing only one glimpse of their faces to tell him they possessed nothing he would ever want. After an hour, he gave up searching the street and made his way to the gym, hoping to find Ellison there. He paused outside the main door, sudden visions of Ellison with a "client" sweeping over him.

"You need some help, sonny?" A middle aged man, bald head shining in the street light, narrowed his eyes as Blair moved closer.

"Yeah, I’m looking for Jim....I mean Cade. Have you seen him?" He watched the crinkled face appraise him, shrewd glance taking in his long hair, earrings and torn jeans.

"He’s not doin’ business tonight," the man informed Sandburg, "come back on Monday." He turned away.

"I’m not....a client," Blair protested. He hurried forward, catching the man’s shoulder, "I’m a friend of his. I.....I’ve been looking for him. You’re Sammy, right? He told me about you. Please, where is he?" Blair realized he sounded frantic, but the longer he stood there, the more certain he was that Jim needed him. Something inside him trembled, compelling him to find the other man as quickly as possible.

Another minute passed as Sammy considered his request. With a brief nod, the gym rat pointed inside. "He’s in his room. A couple of guys jumped him last night, he’s hurtin’ pretty bad." Sandburg didn’t hear anything else Sammy might have added, he took off down the dim hallway and didn’t stop until he stood outside the cramped room where Ellison lived. Courage deserted him when he faced the door, wanting to open it yet afraid to do so. Blair stood there a moment more, until not knowing was worse than what he might find. He took a deep breath and slowly eased the door open. Inside all was dark.

"Jim?" he whispered. He heard a muffled groan and springs creaking under the weight of a grown man and then his hand found the light switch. "Jim! What the hell did they do?" but he didn’t need Ellison’s answer, he could see for himself. Jim lay on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, his ribs, sides and chest covered in cuts and bruises. Welts crossed the flesh of his abdomen where something flexible like a belt had been slashed across it. Blair couldn’t move, he could only stand there and stare at the abused body.

"Chief?" The sound of that nickname released him, freeing him from the horror which had taken hold and Blair was instantly on his knees beside the bed. "Are you okay, Sandburg? Jim wanted to now. "You look so pale." A gentle hand came up, catching Blair’s chin as his face was turned this way and that.

"Me? What about you?" Blair tried to smile but knew he’d failed when Jim’s expression changed to a frown.

"Hazards of the job," Jim said. He released Blair and pushed himself higher against the pillows. Blair did what he could to help, reluctant to touch Ellison for fear of hurting him more, but the blood drained from Jim’s face and he couldn’t stifle the gasp which escaped his lips. "I’m okay, kid," Jim said weakly, "looks worse than it is."

"Oh yeah," Blair couldn’t hide the sarcasm, "I could tell by the way you went white as a sheet that you’re fine. Come on, man, you can’t fool me." As the words left his mouth, Blair knew they were the truth. Instinctively he understood Jim and found himself needing to be close to the other man. "Who did this?" He traced one finger across Ellison’s taunt stomach, and then watched horror stricken as Jim flinched away, curling onto his side and wrapping both arms around himself. His touch had been soft, fingers just skimming the ridge of welt but Ellison reacted as if he’d had a red hot poker in his hand.

"Hurts so bad," Jim hissed. "It won’t stop." His skin had taken on an ashen hue, sweat beaded the strong jaw and ran down his throat. Blair reached down inside himself, ruthlessly locking away his own fear, and took hold of Jim’s arm.

"Take a deep breath," Sandburg commanded. "Relax, listen only to the sound of my voice. The pain can’t touch you if you listen to me." Many years of practice at his mother’s side had made Blair well aware of the benefits of meditation. He couldn’t count the times he’d sat on some mountain top, or in a desert, or even in an Ashram or two, and listened only to the rhythms of his own body and the thoughts inside his head. As he spoke aloud the instructions which had been drilled into him, Blair could feel Ellison responding. Imperceptible at first, the tense muscles slowly eased, growing lax and pliant. The furrowed brow smoothed and the pinched line around Jim’s mouth flowed into a slight smile. "That’s it. Easy, let it go - push it away."

The exhaustion, so evident in Jim’s pallor, claimed the older man as he relaxed, drawing him down into a deep sleep. For a long time Blair sat beside him, idly stroking Jim’s arm until he was certain Ellison wouldn’t wake if he moved. He let himself out the ally door and headed towards the small store he remembered passing on his first visit to Sammy’s Gym. It wasn’t fancy, stocking only the bare necessities. He found antiseptic and bandages then picked up soup, bread, coffee and, on impulse, a quart of Rocky Road ice cream. When he returned to the room, Jim lay sprawled on his back still soundly asleep.

Blair found himself drawn back to the bed, gazing down at the sleeping man. Ellison looked vulnerable in his sleep, not like the rock hard prowler he’d appeared to be that first night. There was a sadness etched around his eyes and the lines around his mouth. He’d had more than his share of pain and death in his life, of that Blair was certain. And Sandburg found himself wanting to protect him from any more. It was crazy, he’d only just met this guy - a hooker who’d agreed to help him with his thesis - and yet something bound them together; karma, kismet, or just plain fate. He’d been placed at Ellison’s side for a reason - he didn’t know what it was yet, but he would.

His gaze fell on the colorful wrappers of Trojans still lying on the desktop. His hand shot out, crumpling the rubbers in his fist before flinging them into the wastebasket. Fury - cold and sharp - engulfed him, sweeping along his body and consuming his soul. Jim sold his body on the street! He lived on money made from granting men the right to touch him, to possess him. How could he kindle such powerful emotions within Blair’s heart? Before he knew it, Blair felt the doorknob beneath his hand. Cold seared his palm, shocking him from the irrational response which had surrounded him and plunged him back into the chaos in which he found himself.

"Chief?" Jim rolled over, groaning softly as his abused ribs protested the movement. "Chief? Are you all right?" The eyes which met Blair’s burrowed through his skull and shifted his thoughts like water. Sandburg could almost see the connection between them, could almost reach out and grasp it in both hands. He stepped forward, feeling the shimmer of energy which rolled off Jim and the - betrayal? he’d felt melted away under that soft gaze.

"Yeah," he lied, "just....I was....do you want some ice cream?"

Jim stared at him. "Ice cream?" he asked. A smile broke across his face and he laid his head back. "Yeah, Chief. I’d love some ice cream."

ððð

"Wait a minute!" Blair brushed at his long hair, impatiently tucking it behind his ear. He finished the hurried note he’d been making and bounced to his feet, barely able to contain his excitement. Everything fit! Thoughts raced inside his brain like rider-less thoroughbreds on a racetrack. "Are you telling me you could hear what they were saying - TWO BLOCKS AWAY!!?" He stared at Ellison open mouthed. Jim flushed, a red tinge creeping over his cheeks but a mulish cast settled over his features.

"I’m not lying, Sandburg. I....I don’t know...I can’t explain it." He rose stiffly from the bed, setting his empty ice cream bowl near the small sink. Blair joined him there, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin but not touching.

"I don’t doubt you, Jim," he said. "I - I just...this is just so cool! I can’t believe I’ve found you." He laughed, a giddy, joyful sound which made Jim frown. "Sorry, man," he said, quickly sobering. "Look, I know what’s happening to you. I can help."

"Yeah, right." Ellison turned away. "Those Army quacks couldn’t neither could the doctors at Cascade General, how do you think you can?"

"There’s nothing wrong with you physically, Jim," Blair insisted. "You said you spent eighteen months in the jungles of Peru, right?" Ellison turned around, reluctantly nodding. "Okay. When you came back you told me your senses were all outta whack. And a year ago, when you were a cop, you experienced the same thing after a prolonged stakeout in the forest north of here." Again Jim nodded. Sandburg began to pace, arms waving as he spoke rapidly, "it’s classic, Jim. Just like Burton theorized. The isolation probably just brought your senses back on-line, just like they’d been during your time in Peru. " He stopped, staring intently at Ellison. "Not only can you hear things from blocks away and see further than normal people," he guessed, "your senses of taste and smell are sensitive and tactile responses are off the chart."

"English, Sandburg," Jim growled.

"I’ve been looking for you, Jim, all this time I was looking for you." Blair stepped closer, "last April - no, May, you went to the hospital, right?"

Jim sighed, "yeah. I thought I was going crazy, Sandburg. I just wanted - wait a minute! How’d you know that, Cheif?"

Sandburg dropped his gaze, kicking at a table leg for a moment. "I - I was...tutoring this nursing student, Sharon, and she told me about you. Said a cop had come in for tests and complained that his senses were totally outta control. I was up in Seattle for almost three weeks and didn’t get her message until I got back to Cascade. You were gone, man! Disappeared totally."

"Yeah, well, things didn’t work out for me," Jim confided. "Next day, during an important raid I lost it." The slump in Ellison’s shoulders drew Blair’s hand. He waited until Jim looked over at him, then smiled encouragingly. "I remember see this woman’s purse....it had these shiny beads or something and in the lights.......I couldn’t look away. I - I....one of our guys was killed. I couldn’t do it anymore, not after that. I cleared my apartment, closed my bank account and left town."

"What happened?" Blair knew Jim was close to telling him how he’d ended up on the street but he had no interest in writing it down. His thesis, his degree, nothing mattered anymore but helping Jim.

"Bad luck," Ellison shrugged. "I zoned out in a bar. Came to with my pockets inside out. Downhill from there, Sandburg. No money, no friends, nothing. I managed to get back to Cascade but didn’t want to contact anyone."

"What about your family?" Blair asked the question hesitantly, not knowing if Jim even had a family.

"My old man, well, he’s never really been thrilled with a son who swings both way." A wry smile lit Jim’s eyes for a moment, only to disappear under the burden of memory. "No way was I going to crawl back to him and I couldn’t face anyone I knew on the force. One night a guy offered me $100 to suck him off." He shrugged, "it wasn’t like I’d never done it before. I’d been a vice officer for almost three years, even gone undercover down on Pender," he confessed, naming one of Cascade’s most notorious red light districts. "Once I started turning tricks I moved up here away from my old precinct. I really don’t want any of my old friends to see me doing this."

"But, Jim," Blair shook his head. "You could have done so many other things - security, construction, forest ranger! But this," he swept an arm out, indicating the room, the condoms, the whole situation.

"It was all I could do at the time, Chief."

ððð

Sandburg checked the clock, walked to the window then back to his desk. Every book Rainier University had on Sir Richard Burton and his exploits covered the already cluttered surface. He shifted a dusty volume closer to the light. "Tell me how to help him," he implored the figure captured on film decades before. "I’ve got to know how to help him." Solemn dark eyes gazed back, filled with wisdom but imparting nothing. Blair slammed the book closed with a disgusted sigh and rubbed both hands over his face. He knew Jim was a sentinel, every fiber in his body screamed it at him. Just when he’d given up the search his Holy Grail had fallen into his lap. Now all he had to do was convince Ellison he needed a young grad student hanging around him all the time. Two for the price of one. "Get a grip, Blair," he admonished himself, "I don’t think Jim would go for that idea."

A knock on the door roused him and when he opened it Ellison asked mildly, "I wouldn’t go for what?"

"You - you heard me!?" Blair stepped back, letting Jim into the warehouse apartment. "That’s fantastic! We’ve got to..." He stopped when Ellison put up a hand, closed his eyes and turned away. "Jim! What’s wrong?" Ellison sneezed and kept sneezing.

"What.....is.....that.....smell?" he demanded in a breathless tone.

Sandburg cast his glance around the room. He’d cooked dinner but Ellison couldn’t be allergic to meatloaf. He didn’t have any flowers...."the sage! Oh man, I forgot." Rushing to the counter he snatched up a bowl and headed for the bathroom. The sound of a toilet flushing reached Jim’s ears and the older man began to relax. "Sage, my mother swears by it," Blair apologized as he came back to the living area. "I never even thought."

"It’s okay," Jim assured him, "just a little overwhelming." He wiped his eyes and lowered himself to the couch with a soft groan.

"How’re the ribs?"

"I’ll survive," Jim said.

"I wasn’t sure you’d come." Blair sat in the chair opposite and regarded the other man. "I wasn’t sure you believed me." He offered a smile and felt it grown when Jim laughed.

"Do I have any choice, Sandburg? Either I believe you or I’m going nuts. I’ll take the lesser of two evils. So," he looked up with those clear eyes which seemed able to read every thought in Blair’s head, "what do we do now?"

"Now? Now, we eat." Supper turned out to be a very pleasant affair. Sandburg found himself by turns amazed and delighted with his companion’s depth of knowledge. Ellison confessed to attending classes at Rainier before joining the army and he regaled Blair with stories about some of his own professors. They talked about everything from politics to current movies, finding they had more in common than not. Later they lulled on the couch, cold beers in hand as the television played quietly in the background, neither really watching the basketball game. The Cascade Jaguars’ mascot, Jazzy, made off with a female fan’s stuffed jaguar and Blair laughed.

"Do that again." The soft request startled him, bringing his attention back to the man seated next to him. Ellison wore a blue sweater this time, it’s color the same shade as his eyes - eyes which caressed Blair’s face.

"Do what?" he whispered and felt Jim lean closer, his own voice quiet.

"Brush your hair back like you did," the husky tone ordered. Blair shivered as Ellison’s breath stirred his hair. His fingers slid easily through his curls, pushing his hair back to expose his neck. "You’re so beautiful," Jim murmured. The path of Jim’s gaze burned along Blair’s skin, his throat dried and he had to swallow to get out his words.

"Jim, man, don’t say that."

"Why?" Ellison leaned in, mouth just brushing Blair’s throat and when he spoke the warmth in his voice filled the younger man’s soul. "The moment I saw you I wanted to touch you," he murmured. "I wanted to run my fingers through your hair," his hands strayed to the curling locks, "and I wanted to hear my name on your lips as you came." He claimed a swatch of throat with searing lips, speaking and kissing at the same time, "Blair, Blair. You’re part of me, I’ve wanted you all my life."

"Jim?" Blair clutched at the head nestled under his chin, fingers carding the short brown hair and caressing the skull beneath. He could feel it too, the need to be with this man. He couldn’t explain it or begin to understand it, he only knew he had to go with it. He brought Jim’s head up, pressing his lips to Ellison’s. The shock was electric, jolting from his mouth to his heart and making it skip several beats. "Jim," he moaned and Ellison sucked in the air he expelled. He gave himself over to the hands stripping off his shirt, intent only on the mouth adhered to his own. They kissed for an eternity, pausing only when black spots danced before their eyes and breathing became a must. Blair knew as he writhed beneath Jim’s larger body that this was what had been missing from his life. The heartbreaking tenderness which brought tears to his eyes as he gazed at his lover was the final piece of the puzzle. He felt it fall into place as gentle hands closed on his hips and his groin was pressed tightly to Ellison’s.

"........your bed?"

"What?"

"Where’s your bed, Chief?" Jim repeated. He raised his head, abandoning Blair’s chest and bringing a protest from his lips. "Ssssh. I don’t want it to be here," Jim whispered. "I want us to make love, baby." He rose and pulled Blair into his arms, hands tracing down his side to cup his ass, "I want to love you."

"T-there," Sandburg murmured and pointed to a partition made up of three overflowing bookcases which separated the bedroom from the rest of the warehouse. If asked, Blair never would have been able to describe the trip from the couch to the bed. His whole world consisted of Jim’s hands and lips, the aching need which flamed in the pit of his stomach and made him moan with desire. "Jim, oh, Jim," he whispered time and again. He felt the world tip and sprawled across the soft mattress looking up at Ellison. Jim stood back lit, the blue striped curtains Blair had hung in a fit of romanticism giving the impression of a Arabic sheik on some desert rendezvous.

"Watch me, baby," Jim’s voice was a husky order. Blair couldn’t tear his eyes away as Ellison peeled out of his sweater. The gray t-shirt he wore under it molded to his well defined muscles, damp along his sternum. Quick fingers gripped the hem and pulled it off, letting it pool on the floor with the sweater. Golden lamp light spilled over his chest, painting it with a surreal glow, making the bruises appear patches of bronze and the welts like rivers of fire. He unzipped the tight jeans and slowly slid them off then did the same with his shorts. "See anything you like?" When he moved Blair could feel the earth tremble, his heart seemed to be trying to escape his chest and his arms crushed the other man to him in an embrace which nothing could have broken.

"You, Jim, only you." Blair surrendered to the sensations crashing through him, he threw his head back and begged for the mouth which devoured his flesh. They rolled over and over in the big bed, Jim covering him then pillowing him as his clothes were flung to the far reaches of the room. Sleek bodied, Jim was like a feline. He rubbed along every inch of Blair’s skin, claiming it, caressing and exploring his thighs with clever hands then moving on, playing with the silver ring which pierced his left nipple. Sandburg let it all happen, unable to do more than groan his pleasure as he was worshipped. Jim gave to him in a way no one ever had; he seemed to exist only to love Blair and make his heart burst with the ecstasy of that touch. Blair clung to his lover, sweat slicking his skin, Jim’s name breaking from his lips as he came. And from a million miles away he heard his own name cried over and over until it faded away in darkness.

A cool breeze woke him, dancing across his bare legs like butterflies. Blair looked down at the man curled next to him, one arm flung protectively across his chest and felt his heart turn over. This was it, this was what he had searched for all his life. Naomi had always said he’d have to journey the world before he recognized his place. "I love you, Jim," he whispered to the sleeping man and saw a tiny smile caress Ellison’s lips. Blair snuggled closer to his lover and drifted off to sleep filled with contentment. Sunlight was streaming through the windows when he woke next but he felt curiously chilled. He rolled towards Jim like a heat seeking missile, intending to banish the cold but the space beside him was empty save for a sheet of paper.

Blair reached down, afraid of what he might find. Seventy-five dollars fluttered to the mattress and a pain so sharp it took his breath away tore through him. With a shaking hand he raised the paper and read Blair, This can’t be between us. I love you, too. Jim Sandburg released the breath he’d been holding and flopped back onto the bed. "He loves me!"

ððð

"Concentrate, Jim. See if you can piggyback your sight onto your hearing." Sandburg casually brushed his arm against Jim’s, keeping contact between them. It was an overcast afternoon, the second full day since he and Jim had made love in his warehouse apartment, and he’d talked the reluctant sentinel into flexing his abilities. Jim’s fears, stemming from what he called "zoning out", were systematically being erased. Blair had discovered Burton’s notes on the phenomenon and realized that it occurred when one sense was used to the exclusion of the others. Jim didn’t like zoning out and the bruises and welts still marring Ellison’s torso, though beginning to fade, attested to the dangers it presented. He’d been distracted by the fragrant scent of a woman’s perfume and the next thing he’d known had been two guys roughing him up in the ally and stealing the money he’d made that night.

"How the hell am I suppose to do that, Sandburg," Jim growled. He’d been growling for the last twenty minutes, snapping out his words with deadly force. Blair, who usually took all harsh attitudes to heart, found Jim’s snipping rolled off his back like water. Underneath the anger, he knew the cause was fear. Jim didn’t understand what was happening to him or how to control it and the panic he felt could only be expressed with bitter words.

"Picture the pathway of the words," Sandburg instructed, amazed at his own ability to come up with answers. To Blair it felt as if he just closed his eyes and channeled some ancient and wise spirit. Just as Jim’s abilities were genetic, so too, it seemed, were his own - he’d come into the world knowing exactly what he needed to know to help James Ellison. "Visualize how they are reaching you and trace it back to the source." He watched as Jim digested this command. Frown drawing a deep line between icy eyes, Ellison refused to meet his glance. Only when he’d thought about it did Jim finally glance towards him. Once - twice then a quick nod. Blair had learned his lover’s signals within moments of their work proceeding. He would think of something and explain it to Ellison who would pretend he didn’t hear it. After it had filtered through his natural reluctance, Jim would meet his gaze but still not respond. Blair suspected that sometime in his childhood Jim had learned not to talk about his extraordinary gifts much less use them. As a boy they more than likely would have been frightening to his parents, parents who didn’t understand why their son could do these things. To Jim they would have been natural but as time when on and his parent’s reaction became more strongly against them, Jim would have suppressed the sentinel aspect of his life until that ill fated mission in Peru.

He watched Ellison closely, Jim had already complained of a headache and as the shadows lengthened he worried about overworking the sentinel’s senses too soon. Jim’s desire to have some kind of control didn’t extend much more than doing the absolute minimum to achieve it and any discomfort not only made him crankier but strengthened his resolve to ignore his heightened senses. "How is this doing me any good, Sandburg?" he asked. "I want to be rid of this," he waved a hand over his face.

"Not gonna happen, big guy," Blair told him. "I think once your senses came back on line here in Cascade you’re stuck with them."

"They went away after Peru," Ellison pointed out. He shifted around a little, eyes still focused on a building several blocks down from Sammy’s Gym, but his hand seeking out Blair’s for a quick squeeze.

"Yeah," Blair chewed the inside of his lips for a moment. "But I’m convinced they didn’t totally disappear. I’m betting that after your debriefing or whatever you called it, you still retained the abilities but ignored them, forcing them back. If you thought about it I’m sure there would be instances where you heard something no one else could hear or spotted an old friend coming from ten blocks aways." He stared up at his lover, unconsciously drawing the other’s gaze with the intensity of his expression. "Last year they came back after a stakeout, right?" Jim nodded, "and they’ve stayed with you since then.."

"And they’ve whacked out on me dozens of times...until...," Jim’s hand drifted up to Blair’s face, gently sweeping the long curls back, "until you came along. If I’m cursed with this thing I can only hope I’ll be blessed with you to guide me."

"You will be," Blair assured him. They stared at each other, silly grins on both faces, until something drew Ellison’s attention. "What is it, Jim?" Blair stepped closer, lowering his voice to a soothing cadence. He watched as Jim’s head tilted, eyes losing some of their focus, and he raised a hand to Blair’s shoulder, anchoring himself.

"I’ve seen that guy before," Ellison murmured. He continued to stare at something Blair couldn’t see. "He was involved in a case Jennings was working......I remember," Jim cursed low under his breath, his hand clenched painfully around Blair’s arm. "Come on, Chief. I want to get closer."

"Jim, Jim!" Blair trotted along in his friend’s wake. "What are we doing?" Ellison didn’t answer, just continued forward, heading down dark alleys until he paused outside a derelict ruin still sporting the sign Peller’s Paints. Blair bumped into the suddenly still form and felt a strong hand grip his shoulder to steady him. "What is it?"

"Arnold Shandorff," came Jim’s cryptic reply. When Blair continued to stare at the dark shape he took for Ellison, he said, "I helped Jennings with surveillance on one of his cases. He worked kiddie porn and this guy," Jim pointed towards a row of dark windows in the abandoned building, "was the suspect. We knew he was making movie but we couldn’t get enough on him, he never got close to the crime." Jim turned back to the windows, "until now." The smile on his face didn’t look human, and Blair shuddered. "There’s a phone on the corner, Sandburg. I want you to call Cascade City Police Department and ask for Captain Henry Stevens in Vice. Tell him to get down here fast."

Blair blinked, he couldn’t believe he’d just become involved in a child pornography bust. Jim gave him a not so gentle push and headed closer to the building as Blair stumbled away. Damnit, Jim meant to take down the ring by himself if he had to. A sense of urgency spurred Sandburg on, racing as fast as he could he arrived at the phone and dug through his jeans for change. "Uh, Stevens - Captain Henry Stevens in Vice," he gasped when the dispatcher asked who he wanted.

"I’m sorry, Captain Stevens is no longer with the department."

"Then give me someone else!" Blair insisted. "I’ve got information about a child pornography ring. There’s a man right now trying to stop them. You’ve got to help me!"

A click and then a gruff voice barked in his ear, "this is Simon Banks." Blair almost wept when the man began asking competent questions, getting as much information as possible in a short amount of time. Each second seemed to last an eternity and Blair had to resist the urge to drop the phone and fly back to his lover’s side.

"Hurry, please," Sandburg begged and hung up. Dread welled up through his soul, his mind pictured Jim’s broken body after he’d been caught by Shindorff’s men. He raced back to the spot where he’d left Ellison, not even surprised to find it empty. "Okay," he whispered to himself, "you’ve seen every episode of Jake and the Fatman, Sandburg. You can do this." Doing his best to imitate Joe Penny, Blair crept forward, finding the door Jim must have used to enter the building. The smell hit him like a fist in the gut, making him want to retch. He could only imagine Jim’s reactions and prayed his lover had been able to filter out the stench to a tolerable level. Old garbage carpeted the narrow hall and his shoes skidded and stuck as he moved. At several points Blair’s hands came in contact with doorknobs but they refused to turn beneath his hand and he stumbled on.

He could feel the panic starting, it seemed an extension of the darkness surrounding him, enfolding him and becoming all he was. He had to get to Jim, his place was at Jim’s side. The hallway widened, ending in a cavernous room where a faint glow lit the far side. Blair scrambled on, sticking to shadows cast by large wooden crates. Every step he covered convinced him he was heading towards Jim. Thrumming deep inside his chest, a bond with the older man came alive and drove him on. He stepped around a crate, hugging its side and came face to face with the ugly side of Cascade.

The faint glow of lights had become a glaring white arc which painted the scene before him with tawdry color. A brass bed stood in the center of the area, its spread a blue velvet island where one lone castaway had been stranded. The girl sat huddled near the headboard, arms tight around bent knees. Blair crammed his fist to his mouth to stifle the scream of rage which threatened to burst from it. All around the silent child, men moved like worker ants. Lights were set up, cameras placed, a man in a dark cap came over to peer at the child and everyone acted as if this was a typical day for them all. Sandburg watched in horror for a moment more, until the man in the hat began to gently touch the girl’s bare arms, he surged forward. Only to be stopped by an arm circling his waist and another covering his mouth.

"Sssh," Jim hissed in his ear. "Chief, I need you to divert their attention while I get into place. Count of ten. Can you do that for me?" Blair managed a nod, dragging in a Jim-scented breath. Ellison smiled and disappeared. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.... the childhood habit came back without thought and when he reached ten Blair had spotted exactly what Jim would need. He reached down, snagging the cable which lead to a bank of white lights and tugging as hard as he could. The stand crashed over, glass exploding in a shower of sparks and knocking over one of the cameras. Sandburg saw a blur of movement and then Ellison smashed one man to the floor with his fist and kicked another in the chest. Blair didn’t wait for the human wrecking crew to finish, he darted to wards the child and scooped her up.

"It’s okay," he crooned as the child began to whimper, "I’m not going to hurt you, I swear." All around them men were shouting, furniture flying and people running. He held the child tightly, covering her face with his hair and speaking soft words into her ear. she was tiny, a twig broken off from a willow tree and when he’d looked into her eyes it had been like staring across a battlefield. "It’s over," he prayed, "it’s over, baby."

"Cascade Police! Put your hands up!" The authoritative voice he’d heard on the phone assailed Sandburg’s ears, he looked up at the chaos the room had become. Jim swayed unsteadily but the owner of the deep voice, a large black man holding a cigar clenched in his teeth, caught him by the shoulders. "Ellison? Jim Ellison? Is this your bust?"

"Captain Banks, sir," Jim choked, "that’s Arnold Shindorff in the cap..." . Whatever else Jim might have said was lost when a wall of blue uniforms descended on Blair, hands reaching for the clinging child.

"Jim!" Blair’s voice broke. suddenly the officers where shoved away and strong arms closed over him and the girl, protecting them both.

"Sir," Jim said, "this is my...partner, Blair Sandburg." Blair looked up into skeptical brown eyes before turning to smile into the tender blue ones smiling down at him. Partners. The sound of the word echoed in his head and Blair found himself grinning ear to ear. Partners it was from here on out.

ððð

"You’re serious, aren’t you?" Blair met the laughing expression with what he hoped was a suitable chastising glare. It bounced off Ellison’s sunny demeanor like accusations off Clinton.

"Don’t I look serious?" Jim swooped in for a lingering kiss before stepping back. "Seriously, Blair," he grinned, "I’m back on the force."

"I don’t believe it," Blair murmured. "You quit, you....uh, start a new line of work, which isn’t exactly legal, and they take you back? I’d ask who you had to screw....but I’m not that cruel."

"Sandburg," Jim warned. "I owe my old captain, Henry Stevens, for this. He placed me on medical leave without my knowledge. This whole time I’ve been a police officer," His expression changed, eyes darkening as the memory of what he’d done to survive filled his head.

"Jim," Blair soothed, "you did what you had to. It doesn’t make you a bad person, it doesn’t make you anything but Jim Ellison, the man I love more than life."

"Chief, you’re amazing." Ellison claimed another kiss. "I get my back-pay in a couple of weeks, Blair. I was thinking...," he paused, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I was thinking you might like to help me find a place to live, a place where we can both live."

Blair couldn’t have stopped the melting inside his chest at that moment even if he’d called the fire department. He felt liquid love fill his veins, pumped throughout his body by a heart so full of it it might burst any second. Jim not only loved him, he wanted them to be together. "Sure," Blair whispered, "we could have a fresh start, someplace where all the memories would only be of us - together." Jim smiled down on him, opening his arms to pull Blair close.

"Banks offered me a position with Major Crimes." His in-drawn breath and the slight tightening of his arms told Blair there was something important here. He waited, looking up at Ellison with apprehension. "I - I told Simon you’re part of the deal, Chief. I can’t control these without you, Sandburg. I need you with me. I said we were a team."

"You’ll have to tell him about your Sentinel abilities," Blair warned. "You’re like a human crime lab with organic surveillance equipment! Banks isn’t goin to believe I’m a Criminal Justice major so we gotta go with the truth.."

"It’s the hair, isn’t it," Ellison teased. "You can always cut it."

"I’m not cutting my hair." Blair pulled out of his lover’s arms and glared at the older man. "This is my most attractive feature, girls fall all over me."

Ellison froze, his face blanking. "Sure, Sandburg, you can’t help attracting every woman who sees you." His laugh, forced and brittle only served to emphasize the distance between them.

"Jim! Man, you are so dense!" Blair threw himself into arms which instinctively opened to him. "I’m going to have your name tattooed on my chest. The nipple ring will be the dot for the "i" in Jim." He reached up and captured Ellison’s mouth, barely releasing it when Jim spoke.

"Just us, Chief?"

"You and me, big guy. You and me for the rest of our lives." Sandburg laid his head on his lover’s shoulder and silently thanked the board of regents. He’d always believed that the right college could change your life, now he was living proof of it. "Oh, Jim," he kissed one smooth shoulder, "I went in today and changed my doctoral thesis back to Modern Sentinels. I figure this will be big, I’ll do the Tonight Show, book signings....who do you want to play you in the movie?" He didn’t wait for an answer. Jim’s roar reached him as he pounded across the floor and threw himself onto the inadequate safety of his big bed. Seconds later, when Jim landed beside him, he hoped Ellison’s back pay would cover the cost of a new bed.


End file.
